the truth of being 18-21
Tee off at the 18th with a spirit unforeseen in your previous efforts,
Drive straighter than ever whilst pickled to the gills.
Shit out the mouth of your enemies and feed the best of your friends via arsehole.
Find strange lovers in dirty cubicles tattooed with queer drawings and varying strings of digits, all alluding to assorted sexual favours.
Dance on cobblestones ’til your socks and soles are riddled with holes,
Sink shots of 70proof and piss in the corner of the dance floor,
Prance more, exude the feeling that you’re comfortable being a whore,
And raise roof, chase that feeling you once knew as a wee youth,
And in the longest run of things, most importantly, most principally, never stop yourself from being irrevocably nothing but the truest, bluest iteration of you..